


Bondage

by fid_gin



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2288102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fid_gin/pseuds/fid_gin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charley ends up handcuffed to Peter, and the key is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bondage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Fright Night Kink Meme](http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html?thread=305102#t305102), to the prompt _Peter is practicing a new 'escape' bit for his show involving handcuffs. He asks Charley to help him out, and Charley says yes without asking what he needs. The next thing he knows he's handcuffed to Peter, and the key is missing._
> 
> Originally posted 10/8/2011

He was barely through the entrance of the penthouse when Charley was seized by the collar of his flannel shirt, spun around and thrown against the wall. Strong hands pinned his arms.

“Jesus!” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out how the bloodsuckers had gotten the drop on them, anticipating the pain of fangs sinking into his neck, but instead he felt cold metal snap shut tight around his left wrist. When he opened his eyes, he saw a familiar pair staring back at him, rimmed in black. “What the fuck?” It never failed to amaze him how _quick_ Peter could be.

“Try to get free,” the other man urged, looking pleased. Peering down the length of his arm, Charley saw that his left hand was now chained to Peter's right with what appeared to be a set of medieval iron shackles.

“That's great,” he said sarcastically, twisting his wrist away and pulling at the short length of chain. There was no give. “Where're the keys?”

“You can't get out?” Peter asked, ignoring his question. “Do they feel real? You can't feel the spring release?”

At the word 'release' his annoyance faded a bit. Not much, but a bit. “What spring release?”

“But it feels real?”

“ _Yes_ , dude, it feels real, okay? Now get this fucking thing off me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter apologized disingenuously. “Just have to make sure, so when I use these on a volunteer from the audience they don't feel...um...” He closely examined his own manacle. “Actually, these are the real cuffs.”

Somehow, Charley resisted the urge to use one of the emergency stakes he always carried to kill Peter.

**

“Why can't we just call a locksmith?” He walked to the bar because Peter walked to the bar, and he pretty much had to go wherever Peter did at this point.

The older man poured himself a drink with his left hand, his right dangling at his side next to its chained partner. “Magician's code,” he said. “Can't reveal my secrets. It's a law, actually.”

“But these are _real cuffs_ ,” Charley nearly shouted, rattling the shackle and chain attached to his arm. Peter glanced over at him, narrowing his eyes slightly – Charley couldn't believe how _calm_ he seemed.

“I've got an image to maintain, man,” Peter said. “One of the stage hands will be here in the morning, and they've all got spare keys to everything. It's only a couple hours.”

“Oh, _great_ , so we'll just stay stuck like this for the next eight hours?” Peter raised his drink in affirmation. “Not cool, dude. You're supposed to be an expert, how can you not tell the difference between real and fake handcuffs?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Peter growled. “I _pay_ someone to do that.” He looked off into the distance. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I have to take a piss.”

“Oh _man_.” He caught the look Peter was giving him. “I'm _not_ holding it for you.”

**

Hours passed. He did his best to explain to his mom over the phone that he sort-of _had_ to stay at Peter's that night without mentioning anything about bondage, but she still sounded suspicious. “I'll keep my hands to myself, Mrs. Brewster,” Peter said, loud enough for her to hear. “Well, just the one hand...the other's chained to your son – ”

“Shut up!” Charley hissed. He pressed _End_ and hung up, slid the phone into his right pocket. “She already thinks you're weird, you don't need to give her more of a reason.”

When Peter suggested they try to grab an hour or two of sleep before morning, he had to admit it sounded like a good idea. Long nights of vampire hunting and other long nights of just keeping Peter company had nearly turned him nocturnal, but he still needed to sneak naps here and there to be able to function at all in his classes at the university.

“Going to have to sleep on our backs,” Peter remarked, looking at his bed.

“As long as you don't snore,” Charley said, then gaped at what the other man was doing. “Why are you taking your pants off?”

“Leather? Doesn't breathe? Ring a bell? I'm not sleeping in these.” Peter got the laces at his waist undone with one hand but the tight pants stayed up of their own accord, and he jingled the cuff attached to his right hand. “Little help?”

Charley sighed and let his left arm go limp so that Peter could use both of his hands. When he bent over to peel the leather over and off of his feet, however, he inadvertently pulled Charley with him, and they tumbled into a pile on the floor. Charley became aware that he was now laying on top of another man. A mostly-naked man, whom he was chained to. It was a bit intimate.

“This is...” Peter started to say.

“Yeah,” Charley finished, not sure what he was agreeing with. He continued: “We need to get up.”

The man underneath him glanced down at where their hips were pressed together, and his lips twitched. “I'm half-up already.” Before he could think of a reply to that, he felt Peter's hand come up and curl in his hair, and he was pulled down into a kiss.

He didn't protest – he didn't really want to. It was nice, except for the five o'clock shadow rubbing against his face and lips. Peter brought his right hand up and Charley's left came with it, and when Peter grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he went with it, used the little bit of slack in the chain to reach out and touch Peter's face. Then he heard a distinct _sproing_ , a _clink_ , and another hand joined the first grasping in Charley's hair.

Breaking away, he looked down at Peter, then over at the now-empty manacle still chained to his own left hand. “What do you know?” Peter breathed. “These were the right cuffs after all.”

“Dude,” Charley said. “You're a dick.” But he wasn't getting up, or demanding that Peter remove the shackle from his own wrist, Charley noticed.

“I know,” Peter answered. He ran his finger along the metal edge of Charley's handcuff. “There's a trick to it. I can show you...” He paused, searched Charley's eyes with his own. “If you _want_ me to take them off, I mean.”

As the night wore on, Charley discovered he really _liked_ those handcuffs.


End file.
